


New Year, New Beginning

by Smidge



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smidge/pseuds/Smidge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short sweet New Year's drabble :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year, New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year to all you lovely, wonderful people :)
> 
> Enjoy x

It’s a quarter to midnight, New Years Eve, the year about to turn from 2013 to 2014 and she is waiting, very patiently; wrapped up in a long cream coat, fluffy gloves with a matching scarf and hat, rubbing her hands and stomping her feet, her nose numb and pink and her breath creating tiny clouds in the cold night air.

She had considered, at almost every corner the taxi took, that this was a bad idea; meeting him, was a bad idea.

They’d only met a month ago; she’d bumped into him while they were shopping – literally – although he insists _he_ bumped into _her_ because he is a clumsy oaf. Whichever way it happened, their shopping went flying, and to cut a long story short, they ended up going home with each other’s Christmas shopping.

The next day she’d brought his back to the jewellery shop he’d bought it from and he returned her lingerie – bought for her best friend, she’d insisted, but he didn’t seem to believe her. They’d gone for coffee as a thank you and then gone their separate ways.

But now the taxi has gone and she is waiting, alone, on a bridge in London, when she could be cosy and warm inside with her family; or at a party with her friends. What is she thinking? This is ridiculous. No one falls in love this quickly. And if they do; it’s not sensible to think it would ever last. She should go home, turn around and call a taxi and go back home to live her life; the life she was living before _he_ crashed it.

But no matter how many times her mind goes there, she just can’t bring herself to leave. She’s there now, and she’s curious; curious to see if he’ll turn up, if she actually has a chance. She knows deep down, if he doesn’t show, that she’ll be very disappointed and feel very silly for a long, long time to come. Oh god, she hopes he turns up.

They’d met again on a plane from LA to London almost a week after they first met. She sat herself comfortably in her seat by the window and a few seconds later noticed a tall, young man dragging himself down the aisle towards her. He apologised to every person he passed as he knocked them with his suitcase and she giggled quietly to herself with fond memories of their first meeting. She almost stopped breathing when he threw his case in the lockers next to hers, and just stared at him until he flopped into the seat beside her and finally noticed her.

They got on like a house on fire and the eight hour flight went by faster than she could believe. She discovered the jewellery he had bought, that she had taken home, was for his sister; not his girlfriend – apparently he didn’t have a girlfriend, which both surprised and delighted her immensely.  They learnt about each other’s families and jobs and even managed to talk about universities and life plans and dreams they’d missed out on. She felt like she knew him well, and yet barely as much as she’d like to, by the time the plane landed and they parted once more.

She steps closer to the barrier at the side of the bridge and looks over into the water, shining beneath her with the bright lights of the city. She wonders whether anyone else is in her situation tonight; waiting at some secret destination for their love to appear and prove to them it’s real.

She fell in love with him on that plane journey. That’s what she believes. If she is brutally honest; it was either then or the next time she saw him – at a Christmas party one of her friends had been invited to. It was one of those grand events that everyone and his dog are invited to; friends of friends and family; where no one really knows each other, let alone the host.

She was just ordering her third drink of the night when a familiar voice added to her order and a familiar hand paid for it. It was wonderful to see him again; she’d missed him and didn’t even know it until she saw him again. This time, she didn’t let him go so easily. They exchanged numbers and parted with a chaste kiss under the mistletoe.

She sighs as she thinks back fondly over the dates that ensued. He’d taken her to the Christmas market, ice-skating, to watch the latest festive Disney movie and to dinner many times. She’d invited him to her parents’ holiday party; which lasted the entire weekend, a few days after Christmas; as her new romance. She didn’t want to call him her boyfriend; firstly because she felt she is too old to have a _boy_ friend, and secondly because she thought it was too soon to label it.

And now, here she is, only two days since she last saw him, missing him more than anything; waiting for him to appear through the fog – like in a romantic movie – declare his undying love for her, kiss her under the New Year’s fireworks and sweep her off her feet and into the sunset.

That _never_ happens in real life.

She is dreaming; she knows it, she shouldn’t be here; she shouldn’t have suggested this stupid, spontaneous idea in the first place. He’s probably out at a party with his mates, laughing at how gullible she is for thinking he could love her; for ever even considering they could possibly have a future together.

She glances up across the river at the magnificent Big Ben clock face, noting the time as five to midnight and she heaves a sigh; resigned to the thought of being alone, stood-up, and never likely to see or hear from him again.

“I can hear your thoughts from the other side of the bridge,” a low voice rumbles by her ear as two strong arms wrap around her from behind. She gasps as she feels his warmth seep through her coat and a fire stirs deep inside her.

She turns in his arms and bites her lip against the overwhelming urge to cry. “You came.” She strokes her fingers across his cheekbone and down his jaw affectionately; almost unable to believe her eyes.

“Of course I came,” he chuckles gently, gazing at her fondly before cupping her face in his hands and pulling her close, resting his forehead against hers. “How could I ever leave you out here on your own, to freeze to death in this cold, on New Years Eve.”

It’s a rhetorical question and she smiles as she realises that she has indeed been silly; silly to think he _wouldn’t_ come.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she purrs, wrapping her arms up around his neck, “I was terrified you wouldn’t show up...”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he almost cuts her off and she pulls back, seeing her own emotions reflected in his dark eyes.  “I love you, Alex,” he whispers into the night.

“I love you, too, Matt,” she breathes. Her eyes flick down to his lips and back up, before she licks her own and he grins as he leans in.

Just before their lips meet, the crowds along the riverbank erupt into life and start chanting, counting down from ten and Alex giggles, pulling away and joining in. They all reach ‘one’ and the clock chimes loudly from Big Ben as the first fireworks explode across the sky.

Matt’s arms tighten around her as he hauls her to him and his mouth covers hers. She squeaks in momentary surprise before melting in to him and pressing herself all against him; unable to get close enough. She willingly parts her lips to his questing tongue and lets out a soft whimper as they meet and dance in the middle.

They part reluctantly when the need to breathe overwhelms them, panting and beaming, watching the fireworks in each other’s eyes.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

“Indeed it is,” he replies, pecking her on the nose, which she scrunches adorably.

She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly, trying not to shiver in the cold. “God, it’s freezing.”

“I’m sure I could warm you up,” he smirks.

“I’ve no doubt you could, sweetie, if we were somewhere warmer and a little less public.”

“Just take my hand and I’ll show you how to _really_ celebrate the New year,” he prises her away from his body and holds out a hand to her.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

“I think you may have mentioned it last year...”

“Well then, I must tell you again,” she leans on her tiptoe and kisses his lips briefly, “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he holds her hand and intertwines their fingers as he steers them off the bridge and towards his car. “Now, let’s go home and make this the best year yet.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are wonderful and comments even better! :) x


End file.
